


Peter Parker, Train Slut

by SweetestHoney



Series: Oneshots - Spider-Man [10]
Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Age Difference, M/M, Public Sex, Rough Sex, Semi-Public Sex, This is once again mostly plotless, Who needs plot when you have sex, or Jake Gyllenhaal, or sexual tension, size difference?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-14
Updated: 2019-11-14
Packaged: 2021-01-30 12:23:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21428164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SweetestHoney/pseuds/SweetestHoney
Summary: Yeah, that's what I named my draft and I've been told I shouldn't change it. Very little plot - Peter and Beck take the subway together every day, Beck gets mildly distracted. But lots of fun! At least in my opinion, anyway.
Relationships: Quentin Beck/Peter Parker
Series: Oneshots - Spider-Man [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1439839
Comments: 14
Kudos: 342





	Peter Parker, Train Slut

**Author's Note:**

> For Call and Talc, who constantly keep me on my toes with good suggestions! I hope this lives up to expectations

Quentin wasn't sure how it started, only that he noticed the boy on the subway once or twice on his commute. He was cute, in a younger, probably college-aged kid kind of way – even if he did perpetually look like he was trying to smuggle a frog in his mouth. 

But Quentin hadn't paid him all that much attention, really, until he realized that he was seeing the kid more and more; they stood next to each other nearly every day. Quentin thought it was odd, since he didn't usually see the same people on the train every _ single _ day, but he chalked it up to a matter of statistics and mostly continued on as he had previously, sometimes acknowledging his companion with a nod or friendly glance at the most. 

There were quite a few trains running during the morning rush hour traffic, but without fail the kid would get on two stops after Quentin did and ride all the way downtown until they both exited at the same spot near the library. 

Quentin didn't know where the boy went after he left the car; he usually had his own meetings and things to be late for and lost track of the kid almost immediately in the pulsating crowds. He'd put the strange happening out of his mind and forget all about it until the next morning, when he noticed the boy again. 

Despite his minor confusion about the boy’s unfailing presence in his daily commute, Quentin didn't think anything of it, assuming it was a coincidence. That was, of course, until the first time the boy brushed against him. 

When that happened, Quentin was forced to reevaluate his assumptions about the boy and what he was doing. The train car was always crowded – so full of humans pressed together that it was nearly impossible to move an inch in any one direction. 

The boy had shifted his weight on one side of Quentin, eyeing a spot that opened up on his other side as a large woman with an even larger bag exited the train. Quentin nodded, pushing himself back a little further to give the kid room to get over without too much hassle. 

The kid had taken the opportunity without any protest - in the jungle that was the NYC subway system, it was do or die, and Quentin knew that if he didn't move to occupy the additional space, it would be taken by one of the people stepping onto the train. But the boy shrugged his backpack off before moving, ostensibly to aid him as he moved over to the spot. All it did, however, was make it that much more obvious to Quentin when the boy ground his - admittedly perfect, okay, it's not like Quentin was _ looking _ but he had noticed the boy's, uh, assets - ass against the front of Quentin's pants, taking long seconds to actually move his body off of Quentin. 

As the boy moved, Quentin's head snapped up, but he didn't respond at first– unsure if the action was even deliberate, since it could so easily have been a jolt of the train that pushed him on Quentin, and Quentin didn't want to presume. But as he looked, the boy's eyes meet his, and he smiled slightly before sucking his full bottom lip into his mouth, nibbling it as he finished moving, now on Quentin's other side. 

Quentin spent the time between that stop and the next, which happened to be his, trying to will away the inconvenient erection he'd sprouted and looking everywhere but the boy, still pressed far too close to him. The boy's deliberate action had raised their comfortable non-relationship to something else altogether in a matter of seconds, and Quentin wasn't sure he should make a decision about it while under the not insubstantial influence of the boys body. 

When the train finally pulled to a stop, Quentin finally forced his arousal down by picturing himself licking the lady currently talking to herself and facing the wall of the compartment. Quentin turned to his left, towards the boy, intent on getting an answer on what _ exactly _he thought he was doing. As soon as the doors opened, however, the kid ducked under his outstretched arm, and shot off into the crowd, disappearing almost instantly. Quentin sighed and rolled his eyes, making up his mind to talk to him the next day, instead of leading a chase through a busy train station. He made his way to work and spent the rest of the day trying to forget the interaction. 

That night, once he was home and finally had a moment to himself to think, he realized something. The boy had looked at him, given him those ‘come hither’ bedroom eyes while standing at his side, and bolted as soon as Quentin made a move towards him. It was fine as long as he didn't acknowledge the interaction, but as soon as he tried to talk to him the boy wriggled his way out and disappeared without a trace. Quentin got the feeling thattrying to talk to the boy about it the next morning would get him the same treatment, and he frowned, trying to figure out his tangled knot of feelings at the realization. 

Clearly, trying to talk with him about the inappropriate behavior would get Quentin nowhere. He sat heavily on his couch, thinking about the problem. If he didn't head this off now, it could get dicey later on. 

At the thought of the boy's actions from that morning, Quentin's dick decided to remind him that he'd not actually gotten off and let him know how good it felt to have the boy pressed up against him like that, grinding back against him. With a groan, Quentin gave up trying to figure out what to do about the problem and took himself in hand. 

He tried not to think about the boy, he really did. He wasn't sure if the kid was even legal, although Quentin felt he wouldn't be quite so brazen if he wasn't hopeful for something more. As Quentin worked himself with quick, sure strokes, his eyes fluttered closed and he saw the image of the boy from the train in front of him, wriggling on Quentin's lap as easily as he had that morning. Quentin didn't know what his voice sounded like, but his mind ran, filling in the blanks with how he might sound, all breathy sighs and short gaps as Quentin worked him. 

Quentin's eyes opened as he came with a surprised grunt, not expecting it quite so soon. He kept up though, pumping his cock and catching the ropes of come so they didn't stain his couch. With a sigh, he flopped back against the cushions, frustrated with himself for giving in so easily. There was nothing to be done for it though, and he rolled his eyes before cleaning himself up and heading to bed. 

The next morning, Quentin actually managed to forget about the incident until he was stepping into his already fairly full train car, looking for an open space to stand where he wouldn't be in anyone's way too much. As he found a spot and settled in, his mind helpfully reminded him of the events of the previous day and he fought a flush, gripping his bag harder than necessary and breathing in and out through his nose to avoid an inappropriate reaction. 

As the train started moving, he swayed, keeping upright from years of muscle memory and practice. The train slowed as it pulled into the next stop and Quentin felt his heart speed up, cursing his reaction even as he scanned the crowd of passengers waiting to enter the train. 

As his eyes landed on the boy's face, he realized he _ expected _ to see him, and even left room to his side for the boy to stand. Quentin's eyes widened and he shuffled his stance, trying to make it less obvious that he'd done that. The boy just gave him a smirk, taking the space and turning away from Quentin, facing out of the open doors. Quentin could still feel him though, pressed against his side by the crush of bodies, and he shifted slightly, turning towards the feeling. 

The boy cocked his head as he felt Quentin move, and shifted his body slightly as well. Quentin gasped sharply as the boy aligned their bodies, and he was suddenly pressed against that sumptuous ass. His dick was very much in favor of this amended position, and he realized that if the boy pulled away now Quentin would be stuck if anyone else noticed his situation. He didn't move, holding his breath, and the boy subtly ground against him, arching as he canted his hips in minute movements, rubbing himself on Quentin. 

Quentin was close enough that he saw the boy's eyes droop, tilting down as he tipped his head against Quentin's shoulder slightly. Despite his better judgement, Quentin's hips pressed forward, digging his erection into the boy's ass, and the boy let out a breath. Quentin repeated the movement and the boy made the same noise, a hitch in his breathing that wouldn't sound like anything of you didn't know what was happening. 

Quentin did know, however, and he couldn't believe he was rutting against this boy in the middle of a crowded train. It was - it was _ ten kinds of wrong _ and Quentin would be the one coming like a freight train of this kept up for much longer. 

His eyes found the boy's and they had a momentary exchange. Before Quentin could even think to open his mouth, the doors of the train whooshed open and the boy was gone, jacket held defensively in front of his body as he vanished into the crowds. 

Quentin had no option but to follow the boy's lead, holding his bag in front of his body as he exited the train into the flowing throng of humanity. He pushed and battered his way through the sea, eventually making his way to a nearly deserted bathroom on a lower level. Once he found his way into an empty stall, he leaned against the door heavily, breathing in through his nose in an attempt to calm himself down. His erection pressed tightly against the front of his slacks, paying no mind his location or the smell he breathed in. 

Quentin had a decision to make, and the next time he saw that boy, he'd be sure to let him know exactly how unhappy he was with his current situation. As it was, he sighed and pressed his forehead against his fists on the door before unclenching one hand and trailing it down his body to undo the button on his slacks. This was no leisurely jerkoff session, it was quick, rough and dirty because Quentin had _ meetings, damnit _ and he didn't have _ time _ to be jerking off in a train station bathroom like a 14 year old boy. 

He finally came when he imagined the boy doing the exact same thing as him, too impatient to get anywhere truly private and just taking himself in hand, rubbing himself as he imagined Quentin's hands on him, touching him. 

After tossing the piece of toilet paper he used to clean himself up into the toilet and flushing it, he straightened his clothes and hurried on his way to his morning meeting, giving a wave of apology when he entered ten minutes late. Tony, who was leading the meeting, rolled his eyes and gestured Quentin into his seat. He took it gratefully, ignoring the elbow of the girl that sat across from his desk. 

She wasn't to be deterred, though, and when the meeting wrapped up she put a hand on his arm, holding him back. "Quentin, hey." She flipped her hair at him and giggled and he resisted the urge to sigh. She was always doing that, and he really didn't see why. "You got in late this morning. Did you uh, get a late start?" His eyes unfocused slightly as he remembered the feeling of the boy's ass against him, but he blinked the sense memory away and straightened. 

"No, nothing that exciting, just the subway running at peak performance as usual." She smiled at him, taking her hand off his arm as he moved. 

"Oh yeah, that's always a bummer!" Her voice was slightly too loud for the conversation and he nodded, smiling at her but backing up. "At least we've got a subway here though – back in Texas, it was drive everywhere or nothing." He somehow managed to extricate himself from the inane conversation quickly, and hastened back to his desk to look busy before she could trap him again.

He spent the rest of the day stewing about the way he'd been left that morning and plotting his revenge on the boy. When he went home, he jerked off again, thinking about what would finally happen when he got his hands on the kid. 

The next morning, Quentin realized upon waking up that he was supposed to be in an early morning meeting and scrambled to get ready, throwing his things together in a whirlwind. He managed to get out the door 45 minutes earlier than usual by skipping his morning shower _ and _jerking off session, but it wasn't until he was on his way into the train station that his mind jumped to the boy. After the doors slid closed behind him, Quentin held his breath, but when the train got to the boy's stop he wasn't there in the crush of people, and Quentin let out the breath in a rush. 

His morning meeting was useless, and he spent the rest of the morning pissed off that he'd missed his chance to speak to the boy. He managed to make two different interns cry by noon, and when he left for the day he was still fuming. 

When he got home, he threw his things onto his kitchen table and snarled under his breath. It was Friday, so he had two days of waiting before he even got a _ chance _ to see the kid again. Quentin groaned before flopping dramatically onto the couch, and lay there for a long while. 

Quentin spent the rest of the weekend alternating between jerking off and fuming over his bad luck. By the time Monday morning rolled around, he was ready to explode with pent up frustration. He got ready for work with a single-minded determination that had _ nothing _to do with work and everything to do with getting to the train. 

Once he arrived at the station, he waited for the train impatiently, checking his watch every thirty seconds and tapping his foot against a hard concrete pillar. When the train finally pulled into the station, Quentin pushed impatiently into the car, glaring at everyone so effectively that he had a foot between him and the next closest person. 

As the train started moving, Quentin glanced around the car, noting everyone standing there with a detached fascination. He catalogued the other passengers absently, and as the train pulled into the next station, where the boy usually got on, Quentin found that he was nearly shaking with anticipation. 

When he saw the boy’s mop of curls come into view through the smeary train windows, Quentin took a deep breath, watching the boy as closely as he could. The boy looked up, scanning the train windows as it passed and came to a halt, and when he finally locked eyes with Quentin he grinned, hoisting his backpack up a little higher on his shoulder and stepping forward to get onto the train. 

Quentin watched the boy make his way over to him, and when the boy stood close to him, not touching but nearly so, he growled under his breath. The boy, who had turned to grab the pole so he could steady himself as the train started moving, turned and shot Quentin a look over his shoulder. He smirked, spreading his legs slightly and tilting his ass up so Quentin had better access. 

Quentin didn’t wait for another offer and shuffled slightly, so his front was pressed up against the boy’s backside, unnoticeable in the tight space of the subway car. The boy’s hands tightened where they were steadying him on the metal pole, and he pushed back against Quentin’s erection. Quentin, with a furtive glance around the car to make sure nobody was looking close enough to actually see anything, reached out and gripped the pole as well, pushing himself even closer to the boy. The hand not steadying himself against the movement of the train snuck between their bodies and found its way onto the boy’s hip, gripping tight and pulling him back against Quentin’s persistent erection. 

The boy made a soft noise as Quentin ground against him, quiet enough that nobody else heard except Quentin, who had his face directly behind the boy’s head. He growled again, using his purchase on the boy’s hip to grind even more against him. Quentin’s eyes fluttered shut at the glorious friction, and when he opened them again, he realized they were almost at their stop, at which point the boy would likely run again. 

He leaned over and placed his mouth directly near the boy’s ear, lowering his voice to a purr. “What’s your name?” The boy jumped slightly, and his eyes widened. He turned his head to see Quentin better, but Quentin ground against him once more and he gasped softly, facing forward. The train started to slow, and Quentin’s fingers dug into the boy’s hip even tighter. “Name, now.” The boy gasped and his hips canted slightly. 

“P-Peter, it’s Peter.” Quentin snarled wordlessly in his ear and ground once more against him before letting go, and the boy whipped around to face him for one split second before darting off, immediately engulfed by the whirling crowds. 

For the rest of the day Quentin was in a fantastic mood, and he nearly flew through all of his projects, getting so much done that he left twenty minutes early. His mind whirled as he stepped onto the subway train home. _ Peter. _ Now that he had a name, he had a crack in the armor. 

The next few days went much the same, with Peter rubbing against him on the train into work, and then disappearing into the crowds before Quentin could ask him anything more, or even get off. Three days in a row he found himself jerking off in a disgusting subway bathroom, too worked up to even wait until he got somewhere less gross. But it was worth it, and every brush of Peter’s incredible ass made him want the boy more. 

When Friday rolled around, Quentin was nearly bouncing up and down when he got on the train, excited to see his _ Peter _ . He’d begun thinking of the boy as _ his _ at some point, and he didn’t really feel like stopping so he hadn’t. Peter was beautiful, and he belonged to Quentin. 

As the train slowed to a stop at Peter’s usual stop, Quentin searched for the boy among the crowds of people waiting to board. When he finally locked eyes with the boy, Peter shot him what could only be described as a shit eating smirk, and Quentin felt a bolt of arousal and fear shoot up his spine. The boy had something planned, and Quentin knew it would likely be very hot and very dangerous. 

When Peter took his usual spot standing in front of Quentin, Quentin didn’t even pretend with the niceties anymore, he just stuck one hand out, clamping onto Peter’s hip and hauling him back to rub against Quentin’s dick. As he moved against the boy, however, Quentin noticed something different about the boy’s ass. It wasn’t anything obvious, but when he ground his erection into Peter’s cheeks, there was something hard and - _ vibrating - _ between them. Quentin realized what it meant after a moment, and he nearly groaned out loud, stopping himself at the last second as he remembered where he was. Peter’s back arched and he whined lowly in his throat, wriggling against Quentin with a much needier sound that only Quentin could hear. 

“You little - I don’t believe it.” Quentin’s growl in Peter’s ear was so quiet that only Peter could hear it, and he watched with satisfaction as the boy’s eyes fluttered shut, his head tipping away from Quentin to give him better access to the unblemished skin of his neck. “You’re not getting away this time, do you hear me? You’re going to come with me when those doors open and I’m going to _ fuck _ you hard and fast and rough in the first bathroom we see. Got it?” Peter gasped, nodding eagerly, and Quentin let go with the hand keeping him balanced against the movement of the train, using both hands on Peter’s hips to haul the boy back another half inch, digging his erection against the plug Peter wore and causing the boy to moan again, softly.

Quentin was beyond caring what anyone on the train thought, but when the doors opened at their stop, Peter straightened, taking a breath and holding his coat in front of his body. He stepped off the train, but instead of disappearing into the crowd, he threw a glance over his shoulder at Quentin, challenging. Quentin hurried to follow and walked half a step behind Peter as he made his way through the station, stopping finally in front of a small door that led to a men’s room. It was down a hallway that wasn’t highly trafficked, and when Quentin pushed Peter through the door, they were the only two in there. 

Quentin scrambled with one hand to lock the door, and when it finally slid into place he turned the remainder of his attention to Peter, who pressed against his front, hands already working their way into his shirt. He hissed at the feeling of Peter’s cold hands and Peter grinned back at him. Quentin captured his lips in a kiss, arms coming up to hold Peter close to his body. 

Peter’s hands finished on the buttons of Quentin’s shirt, throwing it open, and started in on the button and fly on his slacks, nearly tearing them open in his haste. Quentin wasn’t feeling much more restrained, and he ran his hands down Peter’s back, untucking his shirt and letting his fingers creep down the back of Peter’s jeans, grabbing two handfuls of the perky ass Peter taunted him with for _ weeks _. 

“God, fuck please, please just - fuck me - _ now! _ ” Peter’s voice was high and breathy, and when Quentin dug his fingers in harder, Peter made a noise halfway between a mewl and a groan. Quentin trailed his fingers lower and probed at the edge of the plug Peter wore, still vibrating inside him. He pushed slightly, testing the grip Peter’s ass had on the toy, and Peter made another noise into Quentin’s shirt where he’d buried his face. He paused, panting, and pushed so his face wasn’t squished into the fabric when he spoke. “I’m - I’m ready, okay, just - just get in me _ now _ before I–” 

He didn’t get to finish his threat as Quentin spun him around, giving him a shove towards the small sink and grubby mirror. Peter went, spreading his legs and bracing himself against the cold porcelain of the sink. Following quickly behind, Quentin wrapped his arms around Peter, roughly undoing his fly and tugging his jeans down to mid-thigh, along with his boxers. Peter whimpered at the cold air, and cocked his hips up, displaying his ass to Quentin. 

Quentin bent, crouching to get a good look at the perfect cheeks that haunted his thoughts. The plug was barely visible, nestled unobtrusively flat against Peter’s skin, and Quentin reached for it, drawing his fingers over Peter’s skin before giving the vibrator a tug. Peter groaned at the sensation, wriggling as Quentin used the flared base of the toy to pull at Peter’s rim, stretching him but letting the toy slip back inside him instead of pulling it out. He noted with approval that Peter’s asshole was slick with a high quality lube, and he wouldn’t have to add any more. 

“Fuck, s-stop-” Quentin hesitated as he heard Peter’s broken whisper, glancing up the boy’s body at him. “Stop _ teasing _, fuck, just - you need to fuck me right now, god please– ” Quentin’s dick throbbed at the words, and he stood again, pressing his body close to Peter’s. 

“God, yes.” He pressed against Peter’s ass, just rubbing their skin together for a moment and his eyes rolled back in his head. When he finally shifted to line them up, Peter spread his legs slightly wider and leaned forward, giving Quentin a better angle. Quentin leaned down and fingered the plug for a moment, getting a good grip before sliding it smoothly out of Peter. The size was bigger than he expected and he groaned, knowing Peter would have stretched himself beforehand. “Fuck, Peter, you’re - god, you’re going to take me so well, I can’t even believe it.” 

He didn’t wait another moment before pushing inside Peter, inch by glorious inch. Peter’s breathing hitched and he gripped the sink tighter, moaning as Quentin finally bottomed out, pressed flush against Peter’s body. 

Quentin wanted to go slow, to savour the moment, but he found himself thrusting before he meant to, unable to resist the pull to _ shove _ , to _ mark Peter _ with his seed. His hips canted against Peter’s with a quick but steady pace, picking up in speed and force as he moved. Before too long, he was brutally fucking in and out of Peter, causing the boy’s hips to smack into the hard sink - he’d surely have bruises after. Quentin’s dick didn’t protest that idea in the slightest, and he groaned at the thought of marking more of Peter’s skin. 

When he dropped his head to Peter’s neck, biting and sucking in a frenzy of movement, Quentin felt Peter’s movement shift, pressing back against his thrusts with even harder force. They moved together for what could have been ten seconds or ten hours but all too soon, Quentin felt the shaking in his legs that signaled his quickly approaching orgasm. He reached one hand around to grip Peter’s dick, tugging with short, rough strokes until Peter was coming, and then Quentin was too. 

As he came, he pulled Peter flush with his hips, biting his shoulder hard and leaving bruises in the shape of teeth. Peter cried out, fisting a hand in Quentin’s hair as he came and tightening around him. 

They both stood there panting for a few minutes, before Peter finally shifted and Quentin pulled out of him, flinching slightly at the feeling. He grabbed paper towels from the dispenser and cleaned them up as best as he could. When he realized he still had the vibrating plug in one hand, Quentin thought for a moment before reaching up to push it smoothly back inside Peter, who jumped at the unexpected feeling. 

“Wha-” Quentin rose smoothly, pressing against Peter’s back and cutting off his startled question. 

“Peter, Peter.” He reached down, fingers trailing down Peter’s stomach before hitting the wet spot of come that sprayed over Peter’s stomach when he came. “You’re going to, what, walk out of here carrying that?” Peter stayed suspiciously silent, and Quentin knew he hadn’t thought that far. “No, Peter, what you _ meant _ to do was to walk out of here full of my come and plugged up so you’re aware of it with every step you take.” Peter took a sharp breath. “And you’re going to do it, aren’t you?” Peter nodded, still breathing unevenly, and Quentin gave him a smile. “Good boy.” He rubbed a hand through Peter’s hair, enjoying the boy’s reaction to it - he nearly keened, leaning into the hand heavily. 

Quentin finished cleaning himself up and then wiped Peter down with brusque strokes, not overly gentle but not harsh either. Once they were both clean, he turned a still dazed-looking Peter around to face him. 

“Stay here, wait a few minutes before you leave. I’ll head out and make sure nobody is looking when you leave.” Peter nodded at him, eyes roaming over Quentin’s body as he stood there. 

“Yeah, sounds good.” Quentin left without another word, casting a look back at Peter before letting the door swing shut. 

He got to work ten minutes late, and Stark was waiting for him when he finally got upstairs. “Beck, can I speak to you for five minutes?” Quentin nodded at him, and dropped his things at his desk before following Stark back to his own office. 

Once they were both standing in the large office, Stark closed the door and turned to Quentin. “I’ve heard a few things in the last few weeks about you being especially hostile to your coworkers, Quentin. Is there anything I need to know about? Anything going on in your life at all?” On any other day, Quentin would have taken it as a personal affront, an accusation. 

“No, not really, I’ve just been - I recently got into a relationship of sorts and I realized we were having communication issues, but we talked this morning. It shouldn’t be an issue going forward.” Tony smiled at him, a real smile, and Quentin felt himself smiling in return. 

“Alright, well I’m glad your new relationship is going well. Good luck.” Quentin smiled again, and turned towards the door. Before he could open it, however, it swung towards him. Behind the door stood _ his Peter _. 

“Hey dad, my class got cancelled, can I hang out here for an hour so I don’t have to-” Whatever Peter was saying cut off as he saw Quentin standing in Tony’s office and put several things together all at once. “Oh.”

**Author's Note:**

> Why yes, that was a self-insert you saw there. If I were to ever meet either Jake Gyllenhaal or Quentin Beck, I'd be super annoying and not realize it and they'd be trying to get away from me as quickly as possible.
> 
> If you like my work and want to say thanks, feel free to buy me a coffee! :) ko-fi.com/sweetesthoney


End file.
